


One Last Chance

by Rivyn



Category: Elfen Lied, Lucy/Kouta
Genre: F/M, One Shot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-05
Updated: 2014-10-05
Packaged: 2018-02-19 22:28:11
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,051
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2405207
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rivyn/pseuds/Rivyn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>With her heart in turmoil, she must ask him the questions that have plagued her mind, before it is too late.</p>
            </blockquote>





	One Last Chance

**Author's Note:**

> Taken from my FF.net account. https://www.fanfiction.net/s/3122626/1/One-Last-Chance  
> I had posted this eight years ago, and now felt the urge to get back into writing. Might as well start with something I've done, to get myself back up to speed. This is a revision on my last work that I felt could be added here. 
> 
> My outlook on the last scenes from the anime series.

_Kouta . . ._

_The one person that cared for me. That didn't judge me. That . . . loved me._

_Also the one person that I loved back._

_Was that alright? Should I love someone that I had taken so much from? Should he love me? I don’t believe so, yet he does. Does that make it alright? I don’t know. It’s too late to find out now. Yet if I was giving that one chance, I would ask him._

_I can feel them. Those men with guns. They are intent on killing me. I can understand that feeling, in a way. I had killed their friends, maybe some of their family. For that, they did have a least some right to try and kill me. Nevertheless, I had to find out something before they got what they wanted. I had to live, if even for one more day, or even for one more hour. I have to find out this, to make some sense of what has plagued my twisted and broken mind for years._

_However, I suppose that is just me being selfish. I did have chances to broach this upon him, yet never took the chance. It never came up, and my fear of the wrong answer kept me from asking. Considering the circumstances, I have had enough time in this world, so maybe it’s alright for them to kill me, for the nightmare to end right here, right now._

_My eyes stray to the closest human in front of me. He’s no more than ten feet away. Anger is written plainly all over his face. Hatred burns in his eyes, but behind that, there is another emotion that I can see. Fear. Something I had instilled in him, in all of them. In those eyes I can see my own reflection, standing there, limp, seemingly emotionless, gazing back at them. Let them think that of me. No need to change the monster that I have shown myself to be._

_It all seems to happen in slow motion. Guns are leveled at me, safeties removed, eyes to the scope, fingers to triggers. I do nothing. Orders issued from behind, positions taken, soldiers at the ready. I do nothing. The command to fire can be heard loud and clear. I do nothing. The bullets start flying, all aimed to take down the monster. I raise my vectors in a half-hearted attempt to shield myself, though the need to do so comes from that small part of me that wants to survive, though I am attempting to bury that feeling. I don’t deserve to live, after all I have done. I don’t deserve someone’s love. I don’t deserve to love someone. I don’t deserve anything._

_A sharp pain races through my head as I feel my remaining horn be sawn off by a lucky bullet. That horn. . . I can see it falling, and my mind goes back to how much trouble my horns have given me over the years. My lips seem to curl a little by themselves to form a small grin. I can still remember when Kouta had pushed that silly hat onto my head to cover them up, to make me appear normal. That silly boy, trying to make the freak girl feel better, and I loved him for it. Now I have neither of those horns. I suppose, if I were to miraculously live through this, I wouldn’t be stared at anymore for them. I could even look . . . normal, by human standards. The irony of the situation is appalling. When I tried to be friendly while being whole, I was treated as something worse than scum. When I’m about to die, I lose both of them. The universe has a funny way of expressing itself._

_The horn hits the pavement, causing my mind to shift, letting the internal fire that has fueled me through all the wars I have fought over the last few years to flow through me. Maybe I did have some time to ask him that question.  After all, I was a monster, and monsters aren’t allowed to bend, to waver, to simply stand there and take death from these insects. I need to ask him, to get my answer from his lips. The only thing standing between me and my answer are these humans,. these cannon fodder. Their revenge would have to be put on hold, indefinitely._

__________________________________________

Kouta gazed back at the inn with some amazement. When had that clock started working? He hadn’t touched it, or called the repairman to do anything about it, as he saw it as a lost cause, which only left . . . ah, right, when Nyuu was messing with it. He had never thought that she would be able to get it back together correctly, let alone fix it. He surmised that showed that she had more than one brain cell in that cute little head of hers. Well, that only went for the Nyuu side of her, that adorkable little helper. That did not extend to the Lucy part of her, the monster, the hellion, the incarnation of death, her true self. The side that he had missed. With a sigh, he turned back to the front gate.

As he took the last few steps to the front gate, his mind wandered back to the last few weeks. After Lucy had ‘left,’ things had gone back to normal, or as relatively normal as one would call his household. Mayu was getting used to school, Nana had, mostly, healed after what Mariko had done to her. She couldn’t go to school with Mayu, for fear that someone would expose her for her horns, so Mayu had taken it upon herself to teach her everything that she had learned in school as soon as she returned home. Yuka was . . . well, Yuka. The caring ‘mother’ of those two, and himself in some ways. She still forced his head in the pillow every morning when he tried to sleep in; she still berated him over his school classes; still demanded more vegetables be served at dinner; standard, normal Yuka stuff.

As for himself, he was quieter then he used to be, or so he was told. His mind had an adjustment in focus that dampened the normal cheery side of himself. He saw the world as more shades of gray than black and white, thanks to his attempts at trying to rationalize Lucy and her deeds. He knew it wasn’t depression as a classmate has suggested, since he didn’t have the urge to stay in bed all day (except to sleep in an extra few minutes in the morning, damn it!), no self-loathing, or feeling that his life in general was terrible.  It was just a new outlook on life. It may be darker than what his mismatched family might be accustomed too, but they would get used to it. They had too, as he would offer them no other choice.

Placing a hand on the gate handle, he sighed again. He did wish to know what had happened to her. Had she been killed? Had she escaped? Was she still alive, and if so, where? He had to find out, but he didn’t know where or how. It was not like he could ask the authorities now, could he? The government would label him an accomplice, and in a way, wasn’t he? Shaking his head to dislodge that thought, he opened the door . . .

. . . And stared. A stray memory floated into his mind about his father once telling him it was considered very rude to stare. Yet, he could do nothing but. The person he that had dominated his mind as of late was right there, standing before him, with her hands clasping and unclasping themselves, her feet shifting, her eyes drifting everywhere but at him. Had God read his mind or something? So many things flew into his mind, with all the previous questions that he had pondered flooding in, yet he couldn’t put them into words to actually ask them to her, so when her eyes finally settled on his, he did the next most intelligent thing he could do, as it seemed to be the most natural response he could muster.

He hugged her.

“Hello . . . Kouta.”

_______________________________________

_Walking up the steps to the inn, my mind keeps wandering back to the past. Most of those memories are dark, from name calling to blood drenched . . . everything. Among those dark times, there were some bright sparks that I can take some small comfort from. That puppy I found, for instance. It, he, loved me, not knowing or caring that I was different from everybody else. He held no prejudices or resentments, he just wanted to play, to sleep and gorge, and drown me in his puppy spit. Of course, that loving memory had to be overshadowed by the malevolence of my classmates. Whether it be jealousy at my new loveable friend, at my genuine happiness, simple cruelty on their parts, possibly them being sociopaths or psycopaths, or all the above, they murdered him in a brutal fashion. The joy they showed in such an act still makes my stomach lurch, even after one considers the deeds I have been able to pull off. O, the satisfaction is attained as I tore them limb from limb. The reasoning I built up later over this was that if they were capable of slaughtering a defenseless animal out of spite, the world had no need for them once they grew older. At the time, however, it was just revenge, an outpouring of my inner turmoil upon their wretched corpses. And it felt good._

_Once Kouta made his appearance in my life, things finally changed for the better, at least from my perspective. That little box that produced such a sad, yet at the same time compelling song, was something we both shared. To finally make a connection with another person in that regard, it made my world. He made my world._

_I stop halfway up the steps and brace myself against the wall. It was not often that I could reminisce in my own mind about my past. I close my eyes to let the memories continue to flow, feeling a smile upon my face as I do so._

_That zoo trip was truly an enjoyable memory. I can still giggle at myself, as I had at the time tried to play the tough kid, telling him that they were just ‘stupid animals.’ What need do I have to see these things? I would have died of embarrassment at the time had he known just how excited I was on the inside to go on such a trip. Even with my act, he was unfazed, even amused by it, as his cheeky grin had shown. My act broke down when I saw my first elephant. My god, that thing was massive, made more so by my own short self. Of course, I was tough! It was just a stupid (and so wonderful and grand!) elephant, nothing to be in awe over (such pretty eyes and cute tail!). I couldn’t let Kouta think of me as just some wimpy girl, now could I? Unthinkable! Maybe I would have held on to that act longer if he hadn’t dragged me to the giraffe exhibit. To this day I can still remember what was going through my head in those first few seconds of wonder. Why the hell did they have such long necks? Had God taken some sick, sadistic pleasure in stretching them to that length?_

_The water fight we shared later that day was truly enjoyable. When he had first splashed me in the face, my first thought was that he was just like the rest of them, out to hurt and embarrass me, to put me down. Yet, for some reason, my arms seemed to act on impulse and shove him into the water, body and all. His eyes had bored into mine, a mixture of both shock and amusement, with a glimmer of anger that stemmed from his natural competitive side. Those eyes, I shall always remember them. The next half hour is one of my most treasured memories, of our epic confrontation on that watery battlefield. I would say that I won a decisive victory that day (girls rule), but knowing him, he would declare himself the true victor (boys drool!). And you know what? I really didn’t care. I was able to be a kid that day, and leave most of my fears and trepidations aside and focus on just being me, with the one person that treated me as a living being beside me._

_When I had asked him whether his cousin was a boy or girl, and he responded by telling me in a shaky voice that it was a boy, I suppose I didn’t actually take the time to look at his face to figure out if that was the truth or not. Thinking back on it, it was pretty clear, but I was too giddy to figure it out. Contemplating on it now, I can see that he was . . . how should I say, trying to protect me in his own way. He had made a promise to his family, so instead of trying to crush me, he lied to keep me away, to keep me from getting hurt. A stupid lie for an insignificant reason, but it ruined everything._

_The darkest memory I hold within me, grimmer and more distasteful than everything else, was of me murdering his father and sister before his eyes. Of him begging me to tell him some sane reason behind my actions, all the while bringing into question our friendship. I could tell something was amiss right then and there, so to assuage his worries, I responded that we were friends. We were, weren’t we? Friends help each other when one is in pain, or being held back by others. They also show their friends the error of their ways when they make a mistake, as he had obviously done. Yes, we were friends. When he leapt onto me, I must admit I was shocked. I had not expected that. His pleading for me to stop confused me even more.  I didn’t know why he would want me to stop, what reason was there? He had lied to me, and had been caught in that lie, so he had to be punished. Wasn’t that just the way things were done? He may not have been glad at what I had done, but he should have accepted it. So why was he crying? Why was he pleading? Why did such pain and loss radiate from those eyes I had fallen for?_

_Why did it feel like my heart was being shredded as he pleaded with me?_

_I open my eyes slowly. That was the past. What is done is done. This is the present, and all I can do is move forward, or so he would have me think. I know what I must do, but it’s just so damned hard to accomplish._

_I stand in front of the gate, wondering how I am going to put my thoughts into words without messing things up again, but my thoughts just won’t straighten themselves out. To make things worse, who is going to answer the door? Mayu? Bad. Nana? Worse. Yuka? Deadly. I never could make a true connection with any of them, though part of the blame rests on me, I know. Mayu was, well, she reminded me a little of my younger side. Shy when it came to strangers, yet wanting to please. Nana could be said as a representation of the child in me that I was only able to express on rare occasions, such as the zoo trip. I know that Yuka represents my own jealousy over Kouta that I had when I was younger, and still have now. Life has a funny way of throwing you together with people that can represent aspects of your own personality, to force you to see yourself from the eyes of others. Or maybe I’m just overthinking this._

_Yet I am getting sidetracked. I have to do this now, or there may not be a later. I knock, hoping beyond hope that it is Kouta that answers. I can hear, from beyond the gate, the song that had seemed to represent my life finish. Then the old clock starts to ring. Huh. Go figure. I was actually able to fix something, instead of break it. Will wonders ever cease?_

_When the door finally slides open, and I see Kouta, the man that I love more than life itself, standing there, I can only thank whatever higher power is up there, or down below, depending on which is looking over me, that it is him that answers. My Kouta, my own broken, silly boy. I wonder if he thinks the same about me, after all that I had done, reasons be damned. I can see that he is shocked by my presence; it is expressed clearly in his eyes and upon his face. I suddenly get this ugly feeling that I may not be welcomed here, that my coming was a bad idea. Of course it was a bad idea! Who am I to interrupt his life? I had instilled so much evil into it, washed it thoroughly with fear, drowned it in blood, I didn’t belong here. My stupid selfish side was just that. Stupid. I had no right to find an answer to my questions. No right to-_

_He. Is. Hugging. Me . . .again. No yelling, no anger, no tears, no sorrow, no pain. Just . . . love. It’s all I can feel radiating off of him. Why? Just why is he so devoted to me? My eyes begin to sting as tears well up. It’s a rather new sensation, these tears for myself. Maybe I don’t have to ask my questions. Maybe I already know the answer, but have been too afraid to acknowledge it. I can’t help but let a smile cross my face as I wrap my arms tightly around him, afraid that he will run away. By the way he is holding me, I can tell he is thinking the same thing._

_“Hello . . . Kouta.”_


End file.
